


Kink Bingo HP

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Underage Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-11
Updated: 2010-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <span><a href="http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/"><b>kink_bingo</b></a></span> [2010 Round].</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Second Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Virginity/Celibacy] This had been one of Draco's most coveted fantasies.

"Malfoy?"

Draco lifted his head from where he had been going quickly through the thick ledgers that related the business of the Malfoy estates; the heavy, dusty smell of the parchment was held down from his nose by the slightest wisp of a spell. He stilled the movement of his quill and exhaled breathed out slowly, trying to compose himself.

His entire body was taut, caught on that trembling line between remaining quite still and wanting to spin around in his chair to stalk over to the boy... to run his hands over the narrow shoulders and down the warm expanse of his flank. Instead, he moved deliberately, setting his quill to one side of the ledgers with great precision, closing all his books and getting to his feet with all the grace he could muster. He turned, and regarded the person who had been a man his own age a few hours ago.

Now, large green eyes regarded him behind the glasses which were now a little too wide for his face, slipping down his pert nose; a young Harry Potter had one hand on the doorknob, still half-outside the cosy office. He gazed at Draco with a mixture of mistrust and intense curiosity... an effect of a massive spell that had stripped years from him when he had been hit in a skirmish today, but had left his memories muddled between the present and the past.

Granger-Weasley calculated that he would 'grow out of it' in about three days or so. In the meantime, Draco was tasked with the care of a teenaged boy who seemed wary and friendly in turns; a boy who recalled their childhood spats as if they had been only yesterday (and to him, they probably were); a boy who appeared to have no problem locating the cutlery in the kitchen of the large farmhouse he now called home.

"Are you all right," Draco asked in a flat manner, sliding his hands into his wide sleeves, so he could grip his forearms forcefully. Harry gave him a slight smile, and his gaze darted around the room.

"I'm fine." He laughed as he gazed at the fireplace, a breathless sound. "I can't believe this is all mine," he said in wonder and then peered at Draco. "I can't believe that _you're_ here."

Draco didn't answer. He was too caught up in staring at the boy who had taken up so much of his thoughts during their school days. He had nurtured such deep fantasies during their eighth year, when everything had seemed to slow down to molasses within his radius and he watched with bitter, hateful regret as Potter moved up and away from him at the speed of light. Such fanciful dreams, in which he threw away all inhibitions and took the other boy by hand; pulling him into some hidden alcove and making him fall to pieces, showing him how to twist and thrust.

Now, Harry took a tentative step inside the room and Draco swallowed hard; Harry was dressed simply in a large, grey shirt, so old and worn that the neck was all stretched out, sagging down to reveal the notch and curve of his collarbone.

It was bloody artistic, was what it was, all that smooth, pale, untouched skin; Draco tried to remain motionless, watching Harry as he moved around the room, barely touching the spines of books tucked into the shelves. Most of them had been brought over from Grimmauld, and a few belonged to Draco, copies of old tomes kept in the Manor that Harry still refused to set foot in unless it was for inspection.

"All of this belongs to me." Harry's amazement was quietly pleased. "All of it, yes," he confirmed to himself, now sounding a bit more like his older state. He turned his head and fixed Draco with his devastatingly direct stare. As long as Draco had know him, he regarded people in that manner, staring at them as if he could see right through their soul. Harry probably had no idea he gazed at people like that, but... that was the first thing Draco remembered about him, to be honest. Not just the remarkable bottle-green of his eyes, but his heavy, albeit innocent stare.

Something in Draco began to crumble; it must have been the last fortress of his self-control, not that he had much when it came to Potter. He had warned himself against this, and now look: he was hardening under the regard of a boy currently half his age.

"Hey," Harry said as he ventured closer. "D'you want to know something, Malfoy...Draco?"

Was he being coy? "What is it, Potter?" Draco said, sharper than he intended. Harry faltered, wavering for a moment like a charmed snake, before taking another step, even more determined.

"It's like dreaming about something that's going to happen," Harry murmured, now standing in front of Draco and looking up into his face. "Do you know? Things that haven't happened yet, but they _have_ , and it's all in my head. I--" he blinked up at Draco. "We've had... um. Sex?"

Draco wanted to laugh a little, despite the insanity of the hour. "Yes. We have."

Harry pursed his lips; Draco wanted to taste the twist of his rosy mouth. He had not been Harry's first male lover... but he could be. The part of Draco that always rested in shadows wanted to reach out and drag him in, to drown that strange mix of awareness and longing, and bury them deep where no one else will get them. Harry should be all his, all Draco Malfoy's; his to despoil and nibble and lick. His, to slide his fingers into a tight, slick entrance, knowing that he was the first to do so as he buried his face in the sweaty crease of thigh and crotch.

Harry raised his hands and placed them on Draco's chest, leaning in even closer. His eyes gleamed behind his glasses.

"The bed is too big," Harry said, fingers curling into Draco's lapels. Small hands, strong hands. "Will you...?"

 _No_ , part of Draco replied internally. This was the part that pretended to still have some kind of resistance to Draco's wants and the magnetism that was encapsulated in Harry.

Draco took his hands by the narrow wrists and murmured, "Yes."


	2. slow; Like morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Sleepy/Unconcious] Harry may be young now, but he still knows what he likes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had asked the [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kink_bingo**](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) mods if this could be a continuation of another prompt; the basic rule is that each entry should stand on its own...but they can be related so long as they can all be read and understood on their own. Hopefully, you won't need to read any other prompt to get this one.

Harry lay in the large bed that was his, all his, and listened to the deep, slow breaths of the man lying beside him. He shifted underneath the covers and the arm flung across his midsection tightened for a moment before going lax again. Harry turned his head; Malfoy... _Draco_ was still asleep; the leather clasp he sported during the day had fallen off, freeing some blond strands to drift over the wide, pale brow and curl near the point of his nose.

Harry pulled up an arm, twisting so he could free it from Malfoy's possessive hold, and brushed his hair back so it wouldn't tickle too much. Malfoy muttered something and his fingers stroked slowly along Harry's side, leaving a trail of warmth against his bare skin.

Harry went back to staring at the thick wooden beams, and marvelled at the constant perplexity of his life. He'd been the target of malicious curses and baffling spells before, but this one would definitely go at the top of the Bloody Hell list, as soon as he got older again. Three days, Hermione had said, three days until the age-spell lost its hold; a small smile had played on her face as he gazed up at her barely tamed hair and the tiny lines that crinkled at the corner of her eyes.

The worst part about being flung back to his teenaged years (apart from the flush of constant, prickly want that he had manfully pushed away the first time around because he was trying not to _die_ ) was that all his memories were mixed up; it was like looking in a mirror and seeing something different but not unfamiliar. For example, he had two thoughts idling in his head at the moment: he hadn't finished his essay for Charms, and he needed to write up his report about the attack to hand in to Robards.

Two different threads of his life, spun together almost too tightly. Two threads of strong memory; in one, Malfoy was _Draco_ , twisting against that in which Draco was _Malfoy_.

He had been so surprised and relieved when Malfoy had come to fetch him at the Ministry. He had raced across Hermione's office to fling his arms around Draco's waist before pulling back in wide-eyed astonishment. Draco Malfoy had simply looked at him with an enviably calm expression. Somewhere along the way, however, Harry had learned to read the thin line of his lips, the worried tilt of his chin.

Harry looked over at him again. He wriggled closer and then ran his arm over Draco's shoulder, smiling when the arm across his stomach tugged him in languidly. He was getting hard again, and he wondered if Draco would wake up soon.

The old farm-house creaked around them. When Harry was twenty-five, when he _will be_ that age some years from now (how annoying and confusing to be thinking in two moments of time, but he couldn't help it), he bought this low, wide structure and the acres of rolling hills around it. Malfoy had Apparated them here today and Harry was filled with pride and delight. All this was his; there were objects that had not belonged to anyone else before him, pieces of furniture that were there because he _wanted_ them to be. His disbelief was tempered only by his contentment.

His need for Malfoy was more likely fuelled by that combination. In the night, Malfoy had shown him to bed and Harry had rolled around in it for about fifteen minutes. Then, he had gotten up and padded to his office to find Malfoy seated at the wide desk and writing. Part of him was prepared to throw up some defensive bubble in case this taller, older version of Draco got it into his head to attack (one would never know with the git), and another section wanted nothing more than to slide into Malfoy's lap and snog him until he bent Harry over those stuffy old ledgers.

A tight sharp feeling had curled inside him then. He'd never had sex before (yes yes he had), just kissing, and the thought of having sex with Malfoy was arousing and necessary. Malfoy had turned to look at and speak to him, and the burning in those grey eyes had made Harry stiffer than _anything_.

It had hurt, yes. When he'd ended up face-down in his wonderfully wide bed, he had clenched his fist and pressed his knuckles against his lips. He had groaned so loudly when Malfoy's thick cock breached him, slippery with lubricant and hot against his inner walls. Harry had to draw on his older memories to teach his younger muscles to relax, so he could concentrate on Draco's tortured breaths. He had arched up to feel Draco's slick chest slide against his back; Draco crooned in his ear, shockingly filthy things about how tight he was, and how Draco had always wanted to be his _first_.

Now, Draco rolled onto his side, tugging Harry to face him. Harry went up on one elbow and in the flickering golden light of the fire, inspected his narrow face. Draco's lips were slightly parted, revealing the bare gleam of his teeth. Harry reached out and moved back the coil of hair that had settled in the curve of Draco's neck, then let his hand drift down the gently moving chest.

Draco groaned softly on an exhale; Harry's hand paused over one nipple and it puckered under the pad of his thumb, eager and ready.

He ventured down further, breathless with anticipation. He was both intimidated and turned on by how much larger Draco was to him now, even though as an adult he was a still a few inches shorter. Malfoy always teased him for being such a runt. Now, asleep, he was pliable in Harry's arms, quiet. Harry liked that.

Harry thought that he was the most desirable git in the world, sharp lines and all. His fingers encountered the wiry strands of pubic hair, then fondled the half-hard length of Draco's cock. Pleased with his prize, he stroked the thickening prick; Draco moved his hips, thrusting slowly and gathering Harry even closer. Harry could hardly jerk him off, they were pressed in so tight, but he kept at it.

"Harry?" Draco's voice was thick with sleep as Harry's hand worked awkwardly between them. "Hmm. Harry." He sounded as if he was dreaming.

Harry flung a leg over his hip, trying to find a good position to grasp their pricks at once. His hand felt so clumsy, but Draco was making these soft noises, bumping up against Harry. Harry bit his lip, he was still a little sore from before, but he was going to come _right now_.

Draco's hold on him suddenly became fierce. Harry cried out as Malfoy rolled on top of him in an instant; he grabbed Harry's legs and pressed them back to his chest. Harry arched up and shuddered as Malfoy's prick thrust in between his thighs twice and pulsed out a thin streak of come over his own dribbling cock, over his heaving stomach and chest.

"Minx," Draco ground out, flopping half on top of him and breathing hard. Harry grinned and blushed hotly at the same time, wriggling out from underneath and waving around a hand to find the old shirt that Draco had dragged over his head earlier. He used it to wipe the combined mess on his stomach, and looked over at Malfoy.

Draco was watching him with half-slitted eyes. He smiled slowly and gathered Harry close again, hands large and sure on Harry's body.

"Sleep, you naughty little thing," Draco murmured and tucked Harry close.

"Okay," Harry said, but he spent long minutes in the slow dawn, listening to Draco breathe.

 _fin_


End file.
